


The Return Current

by Lizardbeth



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: 5000-10000 Words, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pirate Captain Starbuck of the <i>Viper</i> needs Commodore Anders out of the Caribbean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return Current

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't watched _Pirates of the Caribbean_ lately, so I don't even know where this came from. But the influence isn't exactly hard to spot. *g* (There are some actual historical tidbits, however, since I can't help myself, even in crack) Sorry, there's a sad lack of fighting, I realize.

The Hanging Man was full tonight, Kara observed, as she wound her way up to the bar, Helo at her back. She checked her pistol was in her belt beneath her coat, and put her hand on her sword, as they ducked around a fight that sprang up over accusations of cheating.

She slapped the bar with her free hand. "Charlie!" she shouted to the bartender. "Line 'em up!"

Charlie put down two flagons and Kara pushed coin across. "What's going on? Why's everyone in port?" She nodded toward the crowd, who were drinking and dicing at the tables, not out at sea.

"You haven't heard?" he asked, raising his brows.

She shrugged. "Been north. We just brought the _Viper_ back from New Orleans. Everyone seems a bit ..." She trailed off, watching the gathering with a frown, unable to put her finger on what seemed wrong.

"Spooked," Helo suggested. Kara nodded -- that was it -- there was a tinge of fear in the air, something she couldn't remember in the years since the war. They were a bunch of rats trapped in a box, ready to start eating each other.

Conner explained, "Crown sent a new commander to crack down on piracy. He's taken three ships already."

That got her attention. Competent Naval officers were bad for business. "Oh, really? Who? Has he been in the Caribbean before?"

Conner nodded. "Commodore Anders. Won the battle of Majorca, and spanked the French at Bermuda... "

She cut him off. "I know who he is." Oh yes, she knew the very honorable Commodore Samuel T. Anders _very_ well. Though he'd been a captain then -- he had more influence or money than she had thought, apparently, to get a promotion.

"You sound admiring," Helo narrowed his eyes at the bartender.

"Nobody in Tortuga wants him to win, of course," Conner shrugged. "Doesn't mean we can't be glad he beat the papists, does it?"

Having very little use for sin and churches in general, Kara had to agree with that. She leaned back and smiled into her cup. "Anders," she murmured and threw back the rest of her drink.

"You know him?" Conner asked.

"Crossed guns and swords with him before. When he was an annoying, rigid captain of a ship of the line. But we taught him not to cross us against the wind, didn't we? Captured his ship and everything." She grinned at Helo.

Bastard frowned. "That's not quite how it happened, Cap'n."

She glared at him, to shut up. Last thing this island needed was for him to go blabbing the truth about how they'd had the _Endeavor_, and she'd even had the delectable Captain Anders in her bed. Then he'd escaped and stolen his ship _back._ It had been downright piratical of him. The loss had been embarrassing enough but far more embarrassing was how she kept thinking of him the past two years. They were enemies, and yet, she kept thinking about him. It was irritating.

And now he was back, and frightening everyone to death. Enough was enough.

She slammed down her empty cup, loudly enough to get attention. "I say we teach _Commodore_ Anders another lesson. I say -- we take Port Royal right out from under his nose and make it our town again! I say, we make him fear _us_! Who's with me?"

They cheered, willing to follow anyone promising to rid them of the new authority, and Kara grinned. They'd just needed someone to remember they were damn _pirates._ It was time to act like pirates.

Helo leaned closer to her, eyes wide with incredulity. "You're gonna attack Fort Cromwell? Are you crazy?"

She patted his cheek, murmuring the real plan into his ear, "No. We're going to let all these crazy fools attack Fort Cromwell. Either they all die, or more likely, the commodore will win, and London will call him back. He can buy himself a nice title, and get the hell out of my water."

 

* * * 

"You **are** crazy," Helo told her in her cabin as she penned the message. "You can't go into Port Royal. You think the commodore's going to _ignore_ the warrant for you? He's going to clap you in irons and have you hanged."

"You worry too much. He's not going to arrest me, not when I can offer this much prize money." She folded the message and let the sealing wax drip to shut it. Then she wrote in her best hand, 'Commodore Samuel T. Anders', on the outside and handed it to Helo. "Have someone take this in right away. I'll want some rowers tomorrow night."

He nodded, reluctant but accepting of her plan. He didn't tell her that if she misjudged the commodore she'd be dancing at the end of a short rope. Worse, if the other pirates found out what she was planning, hanging would seem like an invitation to tea. But she'd long since come to the decision that small plans and grand plans had equal chances to fail, but grand plans yielded much greater profit.

* * * 

The rowers brought her to shore as night was falling. Port Royal, as always, stank of too many people in too small a space, but it was busy enough her appearance went unnoticed. She could see the great hulk of the _Endeavor_, the Commodore's ship, in the harbor for some repairs after the last engagement had damaged its rigging.

Once ashore, she set about following her plan. She needed to get access to the commodore without attracting attention as herself. That meant two possibilities: she could sneak in to see him and run the risk of one of his men finding her first, or she could call on him properly as someone else. And who on Earth would ever expect Captain Starbuck of the _Viper_ to be the same person as Miss Kara Thrace, recently arrived from London?

She had plenty of gold to buy what she needed and a room above a tavern on Queen Street. The following day she changed into her new gown, hating that she had to give up both sword and pistol for this costume. She tucked a knife into a sheath on her thigh, pinned up her hair, and put on her new hat. Then, hoping she looked respectable enough, she left the inn to call on the commodore.

It only took a few minutes for her to recall childhood deportment lessons as she walked toward the fort and the officers' row houses. She tensed when the first group of soldiers passed, but when their commander merely tipped his hat to her, she smiled back and walked more confident of her disguise.

A guinea last night had given her the number of the commodore's house. It wasn't as large as some, but probably sufficient for a single man who was on his ship more often than not. It was the last in the row of brick homes, with open shutters to catch the breeze and a balcony on the second floor that faced the water. She lifted her skirts and went up the two steps to the front door. It opened before she could knock and a young man in uniform answered. "Yes? Miss?"

She smiled. "Could you inform the commodore that his cousin Kara has arrived? I promised his uncle that I would call on him on my way to Bermuda."

The young sailor blinked in surprise, but opened the door. "I'm sorry, miss. I don't think the commodore is expecting you... Please come in the parlor while I find out if he's receiving at present."

"Of course." She smiled warmly at him, as he brought her inside a small hallway and into the front parlor. It was a small room but well-furnished as befit the commodore's status. She laid her hat on the settee as the valet excused himself to go find the commodore.

As she waited, watching the foot traffic on the street outside, she imagined the commodore's puzzled expression about the non-existent cousin, and hoped he was curious enough to come speak with her himself. Then she heard the sounds of boots on wooden steps and the door behind her opened.

"Miss... Kara, is it?" The words were polite, but the tone was suspicious. She turned slowly.

He was exactly as she remembered: tall, blue and white Navy uniform with a little more gold ribbon that she'd seen before, dark hair tied back neatly, and eyes the same color as a tropical sky. She remembered what he had looked like without his uniform, and her stomach tightened up in pure, sinful lust. Rarely did she let any man touch her, but gods, that had been worth it.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened as he recognized her. For a moment, he couldn't find his voice and then cleared his throat. "Ah. 'Miss Kara'. I should've realized." Without taking his eyes from her, he said, "Louis, tell the cook that Miss Kara will be joining me for supper."

"Yes, sir." The boy left, shutting the door behind him.

They regarded each other, until he lifted his brows. "This is... unexpected. And very bold of you to walk right into my _house_. I should arrest you."

But since he wasn't, she grinned back, relaxed, knowing she'd gotten his attention. "But then you wouldn't get the details of my offer, and you're a better strategist than that."

"It would be rather rude of me to arrest someone before dinner, wouldn't it?" he returned, and gave her a look from head to toe and back up again. "You look lovely. Though it's not as I remember you best." The look in his eyes spread heat through her. He was remembering their time on the _Viper_ in her cabin, too. He turned away, to the sideboard to take out a decanter. "Claret?"

She accepted a small glass, letting her fingers brush his. He stepped away, clearing his throat, "Yes. Uh, anyway. I thought we could eat on the balcony. There's a lovely view of the harbor--"

"The balcony off your bedroom?" she asked, smiling, as his gaze flicked to hers in disbelief at her forwardness. She gave a shrug in reply, enjoying how his eyes dropped down to the swell of her breasts at the motion. So maybe there was something useful about a gown, after all.

Not that she had come here for _that_, she reminded herself. To find distraction, she moved to the small picture in the silver frame on the writing table and picked it up. A young woman's face smiled out from it. "Your sister?" Kara asked.

"My wife," he answered, and she nearly dropped the picture. He added, "Jean. She passed while I was in the war."

"Oh, sorry." Kara set the picture back on the table and clasped her hands together, wishing she hadn't heard that. "So there's no one waiting for you back in England?" she asked, wondering why she even cared. She _wanted_ him back in England, that was the whole point of the plan.

"No."

This conversation had gone entirely too morbid, she decided and teased, "Well, I'm sure you'll have no shortage of eligible young ladies throwing themselves at you once I make you rich." Then she amended with a glance at the Chinese porcelain bowl on the mantle, "Richer."

He paused and finished his claret before answering quietly, "I found that most eligible young ladies lack the spirit I found in a ship's captain, two years ago."

She let that warm her for just a moment, and then said, "If that was so, you left very quickly."

He chuckled. "I have a duty to my ship, my crew and the Crown. All of which prevented me from becoming a pirate with you."

She retorted, "Pity. You'd be a good one."

There was a polite knock and then the valet stepped inside. "Sir. Miss. Cook says that supper is prepared."

"On the balcony, Louis." Anders led the way through the door Louis held for them and then up a narrow set of stairs, through the commodore's small and spotless bedroom, out to where a wooden table sat on the narrow balcony with the painted iron railing. There were two chairs made of wicker with cushions. He'd been working up here -- she saw a stack of papers, some with formal seals that she longed to look at in more detail, but Louis cleared the papers and the writing set away. Kara sat down and pulled the chair in herself, only belatedly realizing Sam was holding it for her.

He didn't step away either, instead bending down near her head and inhaling. "You smell like the sea," he murmured, and in his voice, she heard the same love that she held for the open water, the sea, the wind in the sails... He sighed and took his own chair across from her.

"So, about my proposal -- " she began, but he held up a hand.

"Not over the table," he said, and she saw why as Louis returned with place settings and poured drinks very properly serving his commodore and his guest. It was all terribly stuffy, and Kara longed to put her feet on the table just because she could hear the echo of her mother's voice chiding her to behave properly, but she didn't. She sat in silence until Louis excused himself to bring their food, and then she gave a sigh.

"And you deal with that at every meal?" she demanded. "How ... exhausting."

He flashed a smile. "He tries hard. But no, we only dine so formally for special guests."

She grimaced. "Don't bother on my account."

But they did. However, her suffering was improved by dinner, which was better than any meal she'd had on her own ship. There was chicken in a sweet citrus sauce, yam, and fresh bread, and then local fruits with cream for dessert. She ate every last bite, not caring at all that she was being a pig. "I'm going to steal your cook," she announced, only half-joking.

"I'll have to chase you down and take him back. Saul's been with me since my first ship. He's cranky, has one eye, and drinks like a fish, but he's a wizard with food."

She grinned. "He sounds like a pirate."

Sunset had come with a rush of colors in the clouds, which she watched for a moment, hoping the weather stayed good. It wasn't hurricane season, but a big storm could be just as devastating to her plan. When she turned back, she found Sam's eyes on her intently. "What?" she demanded, suddenly flustered.

"Nothing," he answered, straightening. "We should move indoors and discuss business before it gets too late."

Minutes later she was settled into a different chair, while Sam stood just inside the balcony, his hands behind his back. Louis lit one of the lamps and then Sam dismissed him for the night. Louis glanced uneasily at her, as if Sam's virtue was in danger from _her_, but pulled the door behind him as he went. Sam closed the door to the balcony as well.

"Tell me," he started as he sat at the end of the bed, "You're obviously serious, or you wouldn't be here, but you're betraying your own kind to help me. Why?"

She lifted a hand to stop him. "First of all, they're my competitors, not my 'friends'. Second, I'm not 'helping' you. You're a threat and I'm managing it. Third, I'm not doing this for free. I want half of your prize money."

"Ah," was all he said for a long moment, as he contemplated what she said. He stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles and making his black leather boots creak. Her eyes traced up his thighs and between, to the shape suggested by the folds and shadows of the fabric, and her tongue came out to dampen her dry lips.

"None of them will be carrying significant cargo, I presume," he answered finally. "That means the only value will be the ships themselves and the Crown bounty. That's barely enough to split among the crews as is. One quarter of my personal share."

She laughed at that. "My idea, my opportunity, and all the risk, and yet you counter with nothing?"

He lifted his brows. "'All the risk'? I have to defend against a pirate fleet bent on looting Port Royal. Hardly without risk."

She scoffed. "You'll trap them in the harbor."

"If they burn, they're worth nothing. I, on the other hand, need my ships intact, since I still have to guard against the French and Spaniards."

"Aw, the trials of being a servant of the Crown," she mocked. "You have so many enemies." She leaned forward, eyes narrowing at him. "Tell me, do you have something against being rich? Because most men would _jump_ at this opportunity to capture some easy prizes."

She stopped, realizing he wasn't listening. Instead he was looking at how her breasts were nearly falling out of her bodice. She sat up straight with a curse. "This is why I hate gowns." She snapped her fingers to get his attention. "Commodore! We're negotiating."

He lifted his gaze back up again, but she wanted to smack the smirk from his lips. "One third of my personal share," he answered. "And you trust to my honor to pay you, because I'm not writing anything down."

One-third was acceptable, she decided. More would be better, but she had to remind herself again that the point was to get him enough money to find a better post, far away. "And do you have honor?" she asked.

"Curious question from a pirate, isn't it?" he retorted. "Which one of us is the one in the uniform here?"

"Most men who wear that uniform are honorless dogs," she sneered. "The word of a pirate is better than theirs."

"Is it? Then how about you give me your word as a pirate that you intend to bring a fleet of ships to attack Port Royal. Because right now, I'm still not seeing the reason for you to do it, which makes me believe there's a strategy I'm missing," he answered smoothly.

"You out of the Caribbean," she answered bluntly. "You're a menace to piracy, freebooters, and smugglers. If you're successful, you leave. If you're not successful, you also leave, but arranging your certain defeat is more difficult than a victory."

He laughed and shook his head in amazement. "You... you astound me," he admitted. "All of this to get me to leave the Caribbean again? I suppose I'll take that as a measure of my success and not of your dislike." His smile turned wry, "That would be disheartening, when I've spent nearly every day since I left your company thinking of you."

Jolted by the words, she met his gaze. "Truly?"

"Truly," he confirmed somberly. "Brief as our acquaintance was, I hoped I'd see you again, in more favorable circumstances. And here you are, bold as brass, in my own house. I can hardly believe it."

Pleased by the admission that she'd gotten under his skin, as much as he'd gotten under hers, she decided that there was no reason to hold back. She liked taking what she wanted, and heaven knew she wanted him. "I'm glad I made an impression," she teased and stood up. She approached slowly, enjoying the stunned look on his face as he realized what she was doing. "I think you need to make a bigger impression on me, because I didn't think of you at all."

It was a lie, and she had the feeling he knew it was a lie, but he didn't call her on it as he watched her come close. "Why don't we do what we've both been thinking about since you walked into the parlor?" she asked, and stopped in front of his legs. She leaned forward and put her hands on his knees. Her fingers rubbed up his thighs, making his breath catch, then across the buttons of his waistcoat and beneath his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. His lips touched her collar bone and traced a heated path across the bare skin of her bosom, and chest rose with faster breath. Then, his hands freed again, he reached up to push his fingers gently into her hair and pull out the pins. Her hair was short, falling only to her shoulders, but he looked at her with admiration. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, curling a lock of her hair around his finger and caressing her neck.

That deserved something, so Kara rested her hands on his shoulders and brought their mouths together, eager to kiss him as deeply as she wanted to. He clasped her waist, pulling her between his knees, and she tasted the sherry they'd had with dessert and it just made her thirsty for more. She felt hot, and wanted more skin to touch. So did he, because he pulled at her skirt, finding his way beneath to slide his hand up her bare leg. He found the knife and his fingers paused. "Are you going to stab me?" he asked, joking, as he unbuckled the sheath. The brush of his hands on the back of her thigh made her quiver and heat settle between her legs.

"Only if you stop touching me," she threatened lightly.

"Then I better not." He pulled the sheath off and let it fall to the floor, returning his hand beneath her skirts and feeling his way back up her leg.

She started to unbutton his waistcoat, all the little buttons up the front, barely able to make her fingers work the tiny buttons, while his hand slipped between her thighs. She pressed her hips into the cup of his hand. Then, his waistcoat finally open, she pulled off his neckcloth. She had to kiss the exposed skin, running her tongue over his throat to taste his sweat and making him jump. "Kara."

She smirked. "I love how you taste," she murmured. He had to take away his hand to shrug out of the waistcoat, and she tossed it heedlessly behind her to the floor.

He winced at the impact. "Kara-- "

"Shall I go call Louis back to take care of your clothes?" she taunted.

"Maybe you should," he agreed, with an amused smile. "Since I can't take the boots off myself."

"You can't take off your own boots?" she stared at him, incredulous at the utter impracticality.

"I would've worn shoes if I'd known you were coming," he answered only marginally apologetic. But she stopped caring about it. His hair had started coming out of the ribbon, loose locks framing his face, and his shirtwaist was damp with sweat and clung to him most invitingly. It was an image of such lustful deshabille that she knew she simply couldn't stop now.

Letting out a huff, she knelt on the floor. "This is why pirate clothes are ever so much more practical. It doesn't take forever to get undressed."

"But the anticipation makes it all the more worthwhile," he countered, and she snorted skeptically.

She had to put some effort into yanking the boots off, and when she was done, pitched both of them to the far wall with hard bangs. He snagged her hand and pulled her close. "Thank you," he whispered right before he kissed her again. She murmured some vague objections, but his mouth sucked them from her, as his hands gathered her skirts. "Let me be your maid, then," he murmured and pulled her gown off over her head. He laid it over the sidetable and then had her turn around so he could untie the corset. She hadn't had the tavern owner's wife tie her in too tightly, but it was still a relief when he started to loosen the stays. He swept her hair forward over one shoulder, and his lips nibbled at the back of her neck, across her bare shoulders, and down her spine, as slowly she could draw deeper breath again.

Then, corset on the floor, and wearing only her shift and short drawers, she turned to face him again. He looked down at her chest, and the breasts now unconfined beneath her shift and coming to definite points. "Now, this is more what I remember," he murmured.

"Me, too," she answered, letting her eyes do the touching as well for a moment. Then impatient, she pulled his shirt off and pushed him onto his back in the bed, climbing after him, eager to get to the part she wanted, now that they were freed of the ridiculous formal clothes.

Her fingers loved the feel of his smooth skin under them, while they kissed some more. He rolled them over so he could kiss and suck at breasts, bared for his touch, while she tugged at his hair and shuddered. "Kara, why can't I forget you?" he whispered. "You're a pirate, I hate everything you do, but I can't stop thinking about you, remembering touching you..." he said breathlessly.

"If you figure it out, let me know, because I have an annoying officer of the Royal Navy I'd like out of my dreams," she whispered before she kissed him again, fingers untying the laces of his trousers to slide underneath. He gasped into her mouth, and she swept her tongue against his, as she reached for the fullness.

Her smallclothes ripped as he tried to push them down, and she squirmed to get them off. Then, finally, they were both naked, and he looked up with her, with eyes dark and heavy with lust, as she pushed down on him. "Kara--" his big hands clasped her hips and held her there as she paused, enjoying the sensation of him filling her.

This, Lord, this was what she had missed. She moved and he moved, catching the rhythm until they were coming together hard and deep, and neither of them could catch their breath. The feeling swelled inside her, tightening, and she gasped out his name, needing just a little more... something to push her to what seemed to hover just out of reach.

He slipped a hand between them and that other touch was just enough to release a wave that rushed through her, hot and cold pulsing from where they touched deep inside and outward to her finger tips. It was like being tossed in a small boat on high waves, but glorious.

She was just starting to come down, still shuddering, when he pushed up into her, thrusting and then stilling as if frozen, his head back to bare a length of throat. "Oh, God, Kara!"

Then his eyes flickred open and his hips relaxed back down to the bed, as he panted for breath. Then he smiled up at her and pulled her down to kiss her lips and cheek. "Good Lord, you are going to kill me," he murmured.

"I could do that again," she said in agreement. She traced his nose with one finger and shook her head at herself. "I don't even have the excuse of having you at my mercy this time."

"Oh, I'm definitely at your mercy," he returned, grinning, but then the smile faded as he looked up at her. "What are we going to do about this?"

She shrugged. "What is there to do? You're Navy, I'm a wanted pirate."

"And if I changed that? I could get you a letter to become a Crown privateer," he offered.

"Don't do me any favors," she snapped, raising up on one elbow to glare down at him. "I carried the king's flag once. I carried legit cargo. Once, until some ass refused to deal with me because I'm a woman. He dealt with me with my gun pointing at him though."

He frowned and nodded a little, thoughtful, as if he was beginning to understand why she was what she was. Then he pressed his lips together and looked disappointed. "So that's it then? I take _Endeavor_ back to England, and fight in the next war, and you keep on pirating? After we get a lot of other pirates captured, we never see each other again? That sounds very lonely."

"We take what we have, that's all we've got." She laid her head down on his chest. "I lived in a cage once," she murmured. "I won't do it again. I won't live your life, not even for you. And I already know you won't live mine."

"There's only one way piracy ends," he warned.

"But it's freedom while it lasts."

His fingers stroked her hair and gave a little sigh. "I ... wish I didn't understand," he murmured. "I wish you would marry me and then we could sail on _Endeavor_ together. We could probably take a Spanish treasure convoy together," he added wistfully. "That's the prize I'd rather have than a bunch of rag-tag pirates."

She swallowed, taken by surprise by the back-handed proposal of marriage, and then she forced a laugh. "A treasure convoy? You certainly have some big dreams."

"I do," he agreed and kissed her hair as his hand caressed her hip and waist as if he couldn't stop touching her. "We could do it. I know we could. But you'd have to be official."

"Really? The Spanish treasure convoy?" she repeated, now more intrigued that she knew he was serious. It would require a lot of ships and guns, but it was very tempting to imagine. All that gold and silver, spices and silk and porcelain... she let out a dreamy sigh.

He chuckled. "I thought that would get your attention. But first--" startling her, he rolled them over, so he was looking down into her eyes, "we've got all night, and two years to make up for."

For answer, she pulled him down by the back of the head, mouths clinging together and her body rising to meet his, hungry for more.

They would deal with tomorrow when it came.


End file.
